


Paying Suit; or, Yasmin Decoated

by VioletMoodSwings



Series: Hung Up [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Kinky, Light BDSM, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Yazster, Yazter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27931747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletMoodSwings/pseuds/VioletMoodSwings
Summary: The Master tracks Yaz down to reclaim more than just his coat. Smutty, kinky Yazster PWP! Sequel to “Hung Up to Dry”. Warning: dubcon galore
Relationships: Yasmin Khan/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: Hung Up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045314
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	Paying Suit; or, Yasmin Decoated

**Author's Note:**

> Serious dubcon ahead.

Yaz was all alone when she heard an oddly familiar “thump” outside of the Khan family flat.

She crept to the front door and listened. Only silence lurked. Complete darkness had replaced early afternoon sunlight out the peephole. Tentatively, Yaz unbolted the door and opened it a crack. Some sort of barricade blocked the entire entryway. With a furrowed brow, she swung the door wide.

Yaz stared. The mirror image of her own closed front door stared back at her. Yaz pressed a fingertip to its solid surface; it felt like regular old wood. She held up an unsure fist and took a deep breath. And knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again, more forcefully this time. She was about to knock once more when the door suddenly whipped open. Yaz’s jaw tightened at the sight before her.

“Yes??” the Master huffed as if she’d interrupted something important. They regarded each other, she with stony resolve hiding a whirlwind of panic, he with wild-eyed impatience.

Then he broke into a manic laugh. “You should see your face!” he cackled.

“You.” Yaz breathed it like a curse.

The Master bared his teeth in a grin. “Me.”

She peered past him. Inside was clearly a console room, though the dark paneled wood, gargoyles and velvet drapes were a far cry from the Doctor’s TARDIS décor.

“You can’t park here,” Yaz finally uttered.

“Are you going to ticket me, officer?”

“The neighbors—”

The Master rolled his eyes. “All nosy Mrs. Nelly across the hall will see is what appears to be your front door. When it’s working _properly_ the Chameleon Circuit blends in with its surroundings.”

Yaz hated being talked down to.

“Moving on,” he continued brusquely. “Your place or mine?”

“What do you want?” Yaz demanded.

“You have something that belongs to me,” the Master replied, his gaze darkening suggestively.

Yaz folded her arms across her chest. “And what would that be?”

He gestured down to his bare shirtsleeves and waistcoat. “I feel... _naked_ without my coat.” A knowing smile curled his lips.

The last time he’d seen it, Yaz would have been _literally_ naked without it. Her cheeks blazed at the memory.

“I...” Yaz pushed down her stuttering discomfort and replaced it with resolve to get him gone, and quick. “I’ll fetch it.”

With the Master’s habit of referring to the Doctor’s human friends as “pets,” she regretted her choice of words straight away. His lack of commentary on the subject threw up an immediate red flag in a sea of crimson fabric.

When the Master moved to follow her into the foyer, she held up a palm. “Wait there,” she said with a firmness that belied her anxiety. It should have been no surprise when she found him behind her at the coat closet, glancing with casual disdain about the place.

“Quaint. In a primitive sort of way.”

Yaz exhaled deeply and did her best to ignore him. _Don’t feed the troll,_ was the saying that came to mind. He leaned a shoulder against the wall beside the closet as she opened it, putting him in closer proximity than Yaz would have chosen. She wished the scent of him was less provocative.

“So, couldn’t stand to let the Doctor use it as kindling after all?” the Master said, velvet voice caressing the silence. “How touching.”

The reality was that the Doctor had forgotten all about that vow, and the coat had just… ended up at Yaz’s place.

She rummaged around through jumpers and jackets. “I was going to donate it to the charity shop,” she said testily. Which was the truth Yaz had told herself about the visceral memento of a brutally bewildering night.

The itch of a fine woolen sleeve finally crossed her palm when she felt hot breath on the back of her neck.

“Were you, then?”

Yaz suppressed a shiver. The Master had a disturbing effect on her. Her knickers dampened. She grabbed the coat off its hanger and swiveled around, hoping the movement would encourage him back enough to make an escape.

It didn’t.

The Master rested a hand on the door frame of the closet, boxing Yaz in with his body. The only place to go without a fight was into the closet. Her breathing sped as she locked eyes with his devilish gaze.

“Here it is,” she said, voice wavering.

“Mmhmm,” the Master hummed, glancing at her lips. The horrible bastard – she _longed_ for him to kiss her.

Then suddenly he pushed off the door frame, cold air replacing his body. Trying to regain some degree of normalcy, Yaz stepped forward and clumsily shut the closet behind her, still holding the coat.

“Did you happen to go through the pockets?” the Master asked nonchalantly, pretending to regard a family photo on the wall.

“…yeah,” she replied with reluctance.

“Naughty.”

“I weren’t just going to send it down to Oxfam with whatever devious paraphernalia the Master might keep on his person, now was I?” she said defensively.

The Master’s eyes flashed at the mention of his name, though he kept his tone conversational. “Anything of interest?”

She reached into a side pocket and pulled out a few items.

“A pack of gum… a _stolen_ letter addressed to the Doctor...”

“Ooh, from the Madame du Pompadour. Did you read it?”

“What? No! That’s private.”

“Filthy stuff. Though I shan’t point out that rifling through a gent’s pockets could be also be construed as a breach of privacy.” He sounded amused.

“Well, I won’t ask how you got the letter in the first place,” Yaz said.

“I guarantee you don’t want to know. Anything else?”

Yaz retrieved a small parcel of linen from the pocket. “Just this.” She unwrapped it to reveal a deep green oblong sphere about the size of a small chicken egg.

“I’ve been wondering where that got off to.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a jade yoni egg – a gift from Caligula.”

“Gross!” Yaz dropped it to the carpet and rubbed her hand on her jeans.

The Master sauntered over. “So you’re familiar with that sort of… what did you call it… devious paraphernalia?”

“I, um… no...”

He bent over and picked up the egg, watching Yaz’s discomfort with apparent pleasure on his lovely face. When the Master stood he was most definitely in her bubble again. Her heart hammered in her chest and her stomach fluttered.

“A shame,” he murmured.

He leaned in and Yaz took a step back. The man had seen the most intimate corners of her mind, but hadn’t that all just been a demented ploy to get at the Doctor? The villain was playing at something, but wha—

Yaz thunked into the closet door. Only his coat clutched to her belly allowed any room to breathe. He slipped the egg into his trouser pocket and surged forward, trapping her arms between them, deep brown eyes intense. A small noise left the back of her throat. He was a dangerous man. Looking at the life she’d chosen, apparently danger did it for her.

The Master had charted a direct course to capture her lips. At the last moment he veered away. Despite herself, Yaz began to let out a grunt of disapproval that shifted to a stifled groan as he nuzzled into her neck.

“You know you’re quite lovely, for a human,” he murmured into her delicate flesh. Yaz squirmed as his beard rasped against her. “I was married to a human once. Lucy. She was lovely too. Fragile. So easily broken.”

At this, Yaz’s eyes widened with renewed panic and she tried to shove the Master back – he’d already tried to break her once. Leverage was on his side though, and he pressed her more firmly against the door, his erection indenting into her thigh.

He raised his head to face her. There was no malice in his gaze, only a haunted arousal. Yaz ceased her struggle and her traitorous hips rocked forward to greet him. She licked her dry lips in an unconscious plea.

Without breaking eye contact he pulled the coat out of her arms and hung it on the doorknob.

Leaning his forehead against hers, the Master wrapped a few loose tendrils of her hair around his finger. It was so intimate, a heady confusion. She should want him to leave her be, but what Yaz wanted most was his kiss.

He moved his lips towards hers, millimeter by millimeter. Her yearning was like a humid breeze along her skin. Yaz’s pride broke and she tried to close the gap, but the Master’s hands held her face firm – she swore she could feel his satisfied smirk.

The Master’s full lips finally pressed against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and she immediately granted him entry with an embarrassing moan. His kiss was not tender, but attentive, reactive, assertive. Yaz’s lower bits clenched, already wet. Hooking one of her legs with his arm, the Master pulled it around his hip, erection pressing the seam of Yaz’s jeans into her core. She leaned into him.

“That’s the advantage of humans,” he continued between intoxicating kisses. “Outwardly compatible with Time Lord physiology, but with such malleable minds.”

With flushed cheeks, Yaz tore her lips away. She knew it! This was all just part of a scheme.

“You’re in my head!” she panted.

The Master chuckled again, his own lips swollen from the kiss. “It’s understandable you’d think that, but I assure you, I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

A sliver of steel slipped into the Master’s countenance.

“I don’t have to, sunshine.”

He rubbed his hard-on against her to prove his point. Yaz held back a moan. Wresting her leg back onto the floor, she tried school her features into a game face.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“To hear you say my name.”

He claimed her lips again. For a moment Yaz lost herself to his forceful tongue before shoving him back, though she only succeeded in buying a few inches of space.

“What do you _really_ want?”

“That’s it,” he breathed, mouth hovering above hers. “Call me by my name. Then I’ll go.”

A rakish smile stole across his face. The Master rubbed his body against hers like a giant cat marking her with his scent. Yaz didn’t believe him. But she was having a hard time caring about that with his hard-on practically branding her through too many layers of fabric.

“You bastard,” she whispered and crashed her lips into his.

“Wrong, though that was a close second choice,” he growled into her. “Try again.”

It was a snog like no other she’d experienced in her short life. Yaz completely abandoned herself to the kiss, let him own her mouth and tongue as she curled her arms around his neck. The Master grabbed her arse with both hands, Yaz bounced up and he helped her wrap shapely legs around his waist, clinging to him like the trunk of a tree. A purr rumbled from the Master’s throat as they rutted against each other. The closet door rattled as they jostled against it.

The team acrobatics continued as he managed to yank her shirt off over her head. The Master nuzzled Yaz’s throat, nipping and sucking while palming a breast through her simple cotton bra. She swore there must have been a wet spot seeping through the crotch of her jeans. There were no thoughts in her head anymore, the constant yammer of her waking mind damped by a heavy fleece blanket of lust and hormones.

“Oh… _Master_...” Yaz murmured into the air.

The Master paused and “mmphed” into her neck, pressing himself into her. Nipping at her jawline once more, he untangled her legs from his waist and set her on the ground.

Flushed and dazed, Yaz did her best to focus on the Master’s handsome face. He planted one last kiss on her mouth and moved back.

“So long, sunshine.”

Yaz gawped as the Master turned and took a few unhurried steps towards his TARDIS. With a shake of her head she cleared the fuzz from her brain.

“Wait!” she surprised herself by calling out. Her heart pounded. What was she doing? Wasn’t it a _good_ thing when the Master left the scene?

The Master spun back around lackadaisically. His big eyes still glittered and his trousers still tented despite his otherwise neutral expression.

“That’s it?” she exclaimed.

“That was the agreement.”

“Yeah, I s’pose...” Yaz mumbled.

“Why? Do you want...” the Master tilted his head down to peer at Yaz through long eyelashes, “...more?”

She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of the bare skin of her torso.

A knowing smile played on his features. “Does that misplaced human pride stand in your way? Perhaps you can’t bring yourself to beg me to come back. But if you’ve had a change of heart about our arrangement... knock twice on the wall behind you.”

His smile widened. He stared at her expectantly for a moment, then with a shrug slowly swiveled to stroll towards the front door.

Featherheaded git that she was, “more” was exactly what she craved. Yaz gritted her teeth. Just as he reached his cleverly camouflaged TARDIS, she softly rapped her knuckles against the wall two times.

The Master stopped in his tracks. The shit-eating grin Yaz had dreaded was plastered across his face as he spun around. It was almost enough to make her climb back into the closet.

Yaz squared up her shoulders as the Master ambled back over. His smugness had Yaz reconsidering her decision – he might not have been messing with her telepathically, but he was definitely playing her like the Time Lord equivalent of a Stratovarius.

Jaw clenched, Yaz balled up her fists as he neared. The puffed-up bastard deserved nothing more than a belt on his high-and-mighty chin. His smirk melded into something more suggestive and caffeinated butterflies joined the angry wasps in her stomach.

“Good girl,” he hushed.

All the internal insects were boiled away to molten lava as he traced long, supple fingers over her bare tummy. Gooseflesh dotted her skin as he dragged his hand to the small of her back. His other hand caressed her cheek.

“Such a good little girl,” he whispered.

“Little girl” was better than just “good girl.” Sounded less like something you’d say to a dog. And more accurate, if you took into account the astronomical age difference...

Her animosity evaporated as he kissed her soundly again, a reward for good behavior. That pleasantly drunk feeling clouded her mind again. He broke away and took Yaz by the hand, leading her into the lounge room.

“And you’re really not in my head?” she asked, trailing uncertainly behind him. He guided her to stand in front of a cozy armchair.

“Not as such,” the Master murmured in her ear. “I can just read you so easily. And I’m very, _very_ clever with my tongue.”

He laved below Yaz’s earlobe, probably could taste the moan beneath that clever tongue. The Master pushed gently and she collapsed onto the seat. With a blush she let him part her knees as he knelt between them.

“Kindly remove that brassiere. It’s ruining my view.”

 _His_ view. Oh fuck, what was she doing? It would have been better if he _had_ been in her head. And maybe he was – his word wasn’t worth tuppence.

Reluctantly Yaz undid the clasp and pulled her bra away, covering her lovely tits with her arms. Starting at her shoulders, the Master reached up and caressed his way down Yaz’s arms, guiding them to the cushioned rests of the chair.

“Much better,” he said.

An unbidden swell of pride softened her misgivings.

The caress continued down Yaz’s thighs to her knees. He nudged them apart a bit more and perched his forearms on her legs.

Was he going to… eat her out? Yaz was a late bloomer who’d had a couple of girlfriends, and one bloke whom she wouldn’t have called a boyfriend. So there had been some exploration, but even thinking the phrase still brought heat to her cheeks. When the Master had let (made?) her… experience the Doctor, it had propelled Yaz miles ahead. She couldn’t imagine what kinds of skills could be acquired after a gazillion years of sex.

From below the Master observed Yaz intently, as if he could see her thoughts bouncing around her brain, like a crouched cat tracking a rabbit. She squirmed under the weight of his attention, the weight of his arms on her thighs.

For an insatiable psychopath, the Master certainly could be infuriatingly patient.

Yaz cleared her throat. “So, about your, um...”

“Very clever tongue?” he enunciated clearly.

Mortification hid around every corner. “Yeah. That.”

“Does what it says on the tin.”

He let a silence drag out.

“So should I…?” Yaz motioned to her jeans.

“If you like,” he replied with a non-committal air.

She undid the button and zip. The Master leaned back just enough for her to awkwardly shove the denim off her legs. In the shuffle he slipped something into his mouth and resettled himself casually on her bare thighs, chin resting upon laced fingers. She hadn’t had the moxy to scrape her knickers down with the jeans though, so Yaz sat there awkwardly in her cotton underpants.

The Master reached up to place a finger in the hollow of her throat. Yaz inhaled deeply as he trailed it down her torso, between her exposed tits, across her belly to the top of her knickers. His predatory grin looked somehow distorted – what was that in his mouth?— as his finger slowed at her pubic bone and took a frustrating turn to skirt the edge of her pants. His knuckle brushed against her as he pulled the elastic aside dramatically like a theater curtain. Yaz let out a little groan.

Nudging her thighs further apart, the Master got up close and personal, taking in the sight of her trimmed muff. Embarrassment spiced her desire. Yaz squirmed as he delicately tickled her clit with the tip of his nose. She was already dripping wet.

Then the Master’s mouth was upon her, working his lips between hers. It felt wonderful, but was unlike any of the techniques that had been used on her before. He positioned his lips at her entrance and suddenly something solid was pushing against it. Her head snapped down to look at him.

“What are you doing??”

The Master wiggled his expressive eyebrows and kept pushing the object from his mouth into her cunt. The yoni egg! Yaz tried to wiggle away but the Master wrapped his arms around her waist and held her in place. The intrusion felt alien yet warm and familiar. She was so wet it moved easily into her as the Master shoved it further in with his tongue. Clenching her pussy, Yaz huffed with unexpected pleasure. Backing away a few centimeters, the Master made a show of sticking a finger into her cunt to lodge the egg more firmly inside.

“Now you can tell all your friends you’ve had Caligula’s yoni egg inside of you,” he said. “This piece hasn’t been used in centuries.”

“Ugh!” Yaz squeezed her pussy muscles. The egg was a bizarre pleasure as it crowned at her entrance. The Master gave her thigh a warning slap. Pain mixed with a glint of pleasure sparkled up her body.

“Ah ah ah!” he scolded and pushed it back in with a stern look.

The Master watched Yaz with dark eyes as she accepted her fate. Maybe the egg _was_ a lovely little fullness once she relaxed – well, as much as she could with an evil man rubbing his beard along her delicate flesh. Her desire climbed. Why didn’t he just—

Suddenly Yaz cried out as the Master buried his face between her thighs. He wasn’t administering oral sex so much as making out with her cunt. Groaning, she unconsciously scooted down the chair to rock her hips up to him. The egg shifted to rub against her g-spot and the combined sensations became too much. Yaz tried to struggle away, but in the shuffle the Master threw one of her legs over his shoulder and held fast. The slurping noises were beyond lewd.

His tongue finally set into a regular tempo to one side of Yaz’s clit, and the frenzy turned to a blooming warm ache in her abdomen. He slid a finger into her cunt, jostling the egg in time with his licking. Yaz’s legs quaked, mewling noises resounding off the lounge room walls right before she exploded. The Master rode out her orgasm, finally slowing and pulling away just before it became painful.

Still trembling, Yaz slumped down in the chair. From between the Venetian blinds of her fingers Yaz peeked down at the Master, who sat back on his heel with a self-satisfied expression. She’d never come so fast before in her life – damned if she’d tell the big-headed bastard that, though. The Master sat up and loomed over her, his beard gleaming with her juices. He hovered for a moment before laying a sloppy kiss on her mouth. Like so much about the Master it was upsetting and disturbingly erotic. She was still too dazed to resist and lazily ran her tongue around his, tasting the tang of herself. The Master gave an appreciative “mmm” at this.

He stood and pulled Yaz to her feet. Her pussy gave a residual clench as the egg joggled around.

The Master motioned to her sopping knickers. “Those are only going to get in the way.”

So there was more. She should send him on his way, but the Master’s debaucherous nature sparked a morbid curiosity that set her insides a-flutter. A mainline of dopamine and oxytocin seemed to allow her to slough off a bit of shyness. It helped that she refused to think of the unforgivable things he’d done. Or the Doctor, for once. It was hard to think of much of anything at the moment. Yaz slipped her knickers off.

His lusty eye took her body in from head to toe, making her very aware that she was starkers while he remained fully clothed. With a very conscious effort Yaz managed to not hide her bits from him.

“Shall we level the playing field?” His sarcastic tone made it clear he knew that would never actually happen. “Undress me, sunshine.”

Yaz hesitated. Making her knock was bad enough, but this would mean she had without a doubt taken an active role in this madness.

The Master stalked over to Yaz. The muscles in her abdomen tensed, and the egg reminded her of its presence. He unwound her hair. As it fell down around her shoulders, he leaned in.

“I said… _undress me_.” Menace edged his voice.

The Master held up a shirt cuff and looked expectantly at the buttons. Now able to hide behind a curtain of hair, Yaz reached out and undid them. Then the other arm. She started in on the fasteners of his waistcoat, gaining courage with each button. And criminy, did he have a lot of them. Yaz pushed the waistcoat off his shoulders and laid it over the back of a chair.

The Master shifted just enough to enable the removal of his kit, remaining motionless otherwise. He appraised her with satisfaction as she worked on his shirt front, revealing a thick black pelt on his chest. Yaz had never had a lover with a hairy chest before. Fascination must have been writ large on her face as she wondered what it would feel like on her skin.

“You can rub your face in it later,” the Master remarked. Yaz ducked her head and pretended she hadn’t heard, pulling his shirt tails out of his trousers. Sliding it off him, the shirt joined his waistcoat on the chair.

He wasn’t any less handsome bare-chested, though his exposed skin failed to put Yaz at her ease. Just concentrate on the task at hand, she told herself. Shoes. Crouching down before the Master felt particularly vulnerable. She was sure he leered down at her. The thought revved Yaz's engine as she further questioned her own sanity.

His laces were obsessively knotted, and a chuckle came from up above as Yaz struggled to pick them apart. The Master lifted up his feet to allow her to finally slip off his brogues.

Socks. Suddenly her mind flashed back to the cold basement floor of that mansion, when he’d telepathically commanded her to remove them. With a little shake to clear her head, Yaz picked up his feet one by one to peel them off. It wasn’t too late. She could still escape...

When she tried to get up, the Master pushed Yaz down to her knees. A thrill of fear and arousal shot through her.

“Don’t stand on my account. You look quite... _fetching_ down there.”

Fetching. The arsehole.

“I am not a pet,” Yaz said between gritted teeth.

“But you’re so lovely, heeling at my feet,” he said with a cruel smile. “I could put you in a little diamond-studded collar and lead you around the universe on a leash.”

Yaz hated that the mental image sent a surge of warmth to her cunt as it clenched around that damned egg. Eyes flashing, she began to uncoil from the ground like a spring. The Master held her down by the shoulders. He giggled.

“You’re not done yet,” he tutted. “And you’re almost to the best part.”

“Let me up.”

“No?” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “ _Bad girl_. But the Doctor always did like her pets a bit feral. Now... _stay_.” The Master tentatively took one hand off her shoulders, holding his palm flat in front of her face.

“ _Or what_?” Yaz spat. She immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say.

That unpredictable derangement crested in the Master’s eyes.

“Or I’ll be sure our darling Doctor knows all about this little tryst.”

Guilt tinged her anger tinged her fear tinged her lust. The Doctor could never know about this.

Staring her down, the Master removed his other hand. He undid his trousers and shucked them along with his pants. Eye level with the Master’s stiff cock, Yaz’s breathing sped. Anticipation overtook her – he was sure to cram that big thing into her mouth. He’d done it before.

But he didn’t. Out of the blue he was kneeling in front of her. The madness in his beautiful eyes had flipped back into a randy smirk.

“What’s the matter?” he purred. “You seem to like getting on your knees for me.”

How many times could he make her blush in one afternoon?

It was a good thing all the questions had been rhetorical, because before she could answer any of them the Master roughly squeezed one of her tits, latching onto the nipple with teeth. Pain met pleasure. Yaz gasped. His other hand glided through the slickness of her labia. Arching towards him, Yaz found herself running a hand through his hair – just to steady herself.

Suddenly the Master was scooping her up like a ragdoll. As he carried her to the couch she only struggled a bit, mostly out of surprise. He sat and guided her to straddle his lap, immediately capturing her lips in a hungry kiss she felt down to her toes.

She could taste the centuries on him, the rage, the weariness, the untenable passion. Her cunt squeezed the egg against a sensitive spot, sending an extra shudder through her.

Yaz ground herself down on the Master, rubbing her clit against the base of his cock as it pressed between them. Her tits chafed in the best way against his chest hair. He threaded a hand into her tresses near the scalp, tugging lightly – just enough to remind her of who was in control.

Yaz liked that. She liked that he was in control. Her cunt ached for him.

“You want me to to fuck you?” the Master growled in her ear, beard grating deliciously on her neck.

Her head snapped up and down in assent. Between the egg and the friction and the tension Yaz was close to coming right then and there.

“You want this beautiful prick sliding into that gorgeous pussy, so wet just for me?”

More frantic nodding from Yaz.

“You want me to fill you up with precious Time Lord cum?”

Yaz began to nod but managed to calm the frenzy momentarily. She leaned back so he could see her flushed face.

“Can… can you get me pregnant?”

“Not accidentally,” the Master replied, grinding against Yaz in a way that made it hard to string coherent thoughts together. But she tried.

“So you won’t...”

“No, I won’t,” he huffed impatiently and yanked her body to his.

He nipped and sucked on her neck. Hands on her arse, he rutted against Yaz until she mewled in his ear. The egg dragged along her g-spot.

“Now, about this perfect Time Lord cock in your winsome little human cunt...” he continued.

From her plateau, Yaz was spitting distance from the edge she longed to drop over.

“Yes… please… please… Master...”

Eyes full of lascivious pride, he shoved Yaz’s torso back at an awkward angle. Her hands shot out and she clung to his shoulders to keep from falling backwards. The position tilted her pelvis upwards in offering to him. The Master teased Yaz’s clit with the head of his cock. It was driving her crazy, and she wanted him inside her so badly, but...

“The egg...” Her husky voice wavered.

“What about it?” he said without ceasing.

“Shouldn’t I take it out fir—“

The Master slotted the head of his cock into the entrance of her slick cunt. Yaz let out a little cry of shocked ecstasy.

“It’s all part of the fun,” the Master said, slowly working his prick into her. “Caligula would be proud.”

Struggling only seemed to lodge everything further inside her as the Master bumped into the egg. Grunting, the Master gradually worked his length alongside it in her cunt. Yaz felt so very full. It was overwhelming. She wasn’t sure she could take it.

“Master, please...” she croaked, a different kind of plea. He paused.

“Yes?” he said innocently, if that was possible under the circumstances. A sheen of sweat formed on the Master’s brow and an extra layer of gravel had been laid down on his vocal cords.

“It’s too much, I can’t—”

“It’s always something with you lot,” he breathed. Through her fog Yaz was pretty sure he was taking the piss. “Fine.”

Yaz breathed a sigh of relief and moved to dismount him. She’d always been an optimist.

The Master gripped her hips tight. “You drive.” At her hesitation he jerked up into her. Reflexively she bucked with a little cry. “Or I can stay at the wheel, if you’d prefer.”

Yaz scowled down at him with horny resentment, thankful he’d stilled but impatient for more. “I’ll bet you’re the worst sort of backseat driver,” she muttered. Oh no… was that out loud?

“Excuse me?” the Master said. It was a threat.

He flung Yaz to the side and leapt upon her, flipping her onto her stomach before she could protest. She tried to gain some leverage but the Master only used it against her, pulling her arse into the air and shoving her head into the sofa cushion.

“Let’s hope you never have to negotiate a hostage situation,” he said with a laugh.

Yaz’s breathing caught as the Master parted her cheeks. She knew that from a villain’s point of view she had just practically begged him to fuck her up the arse. He rubbed his thumb around the rim of her tight hole. She’d never had anal sex before and this seemed like a terrifying time to start.

“No, please… Master... don’t… Master...” Yaz pled. “Please… Master… please f-fuck my... pussy with your... thick cock!” Dirty talk was also new to her, but she was desperate for a diversion.

The Master chuckled darkly behind her. “You’re just playing that ‘name’ card for all its worth now, aren’t you?” He gave her anus a few more strokes. “Well, never let it be said that pandering doesn’t pay off occasionally.”

Yaz gasped as he slid into her pussy. Her lower bits sang with joy until his prick bumped into and pushed up alongside the egg. It was difficult to breathe. She’d never been so aware of her g-spot before.

This time the Master kept at it despite her incoherent protestation, slow steady strokes that gradually increased in tempo. It was so much sensation.

“Thank you, Caligula,” the Master said breathlessly. “And that tight little human cunt certainly is ‘Daddy’s little helper.’”

The phrase didn’t just do things to Yaz. As the Master uttered it, he started shagging her with abandon, bottoming out in her pussy. Thighs trembling violently, Yaz keened into the cushion, rocking back to meet him, rocking forward in hopes of escape from the overwhelming onslaught of sensations.

Her brain shortwired. An electric current shot through Yaz as she came, her entire body convulsing. Screams resounded off the walls. Her cunt clenched and released around the egg and the Master’s cock. He growled. His hips stuttered before he rammed his length home, a sticky warmth mingling with her own as he filled her up with his seed.

Cock still lodged inside her, the Master collapsed atop Yaz, squashing her into the sofa with his sweaty weight. When the power of speech returned, Yaz mumbled in protest. He gave a winded chuckle and rolled them both to the side, turning her into his little spoon. His cock was still hard inside her.

And it was… nice. That alone was unsettling, enjoying the circle of the Master’s arms. His hearts hammered against Yaz’s back as they… cuddled.

She was almost relieved when he popped his prick out of her pussy and maneuvered to sit between her legs. His glistening cock still stood proud.

“I’ll have that egg back now,” he said.

Yaz hadn’t considered what it would take to get the damned thing out. She shifted onto her back.

“How—”

“Just put your lips together and blow,” he said with a boyish grin reminiscent of O.

A distressed look crossed Yaz’s face. The Master rolled his eyes.

“Push, sunshine.”

Her old friend mortification returned, but she was too fatigued to fight. Yaz bore down on the egg. The Master’s cum dripped out of her as she felt the egg start to slip towards the entrance of her cunt. Another couple of pushes and it popped out of her pussy and into the Master’s waiting hand.

“Good girl.” He gave the egg a little smooch and his cock throbbed with apparent pleasure. Yaz winced as he laid the sloppy thing on the family coffee table. Momentarily able to interface with reality, Yaz glanced at the clock on the wall. “My… my sister is due home soon.”

She began to sit up but he shoved her back into the cushions.

“Oh I’m not through marking you, my little slut.” He began massaging her tender clit with his thumb. “We’ll just have to be quick about it, won’t we?”

Renewed arousal shot through her. _His slut_. Two fingers slid easily into Yaz. Her hips rose to meet him with a groan, real-world logistics shelved.

“Ohhh, you’re already so full of my spunk,” he purred. “There isn’t a better lubricant in the universe.”

Distantly, Yaz wondered if he meant semen in general or his specifically. The Master climbed up her body, nipping and sucking along the way. Eyes fluttering shut, she responded to his every move, bent her knees to cradle him between her thighs.

He slicked his cock up in the cum that leaked out of her pussy. Staring down at her intently the Master patiently poised at her entrance, building the tension until Yaz began to writhe beneath him.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded. Yaz complied, staring doe-eyed into his alluringly cruel features. “Beg me.”

She’d already begged him so many times, what was once more? Anything to get him back inside her. “Please, Master…”

“Yes?”

“Please… fuck me, Master,” she whispered.

The Master plunged into her with a snarl, sliding in to the hilt. “Oh that cunt is delightful, already so full of my cum.”

There was no pussyfooting around; the Master got straight to it with deep, hard strokes. It was so manageable without the egg – her building orgasm was comfortable by comparison.

“Do you want more? Want me to pump you full of my nectar?”

The dirty talk was unbearably sexy. Yaz’s nodding got lost in all the vigorous jiggling.

“I’m going to fill you so full, it’ll leak out of you for days,” he growled.

The Master scooped up her legs and jammed them up against his chest, ratcheting up her oncoming orgasm as his cock brutally slammed into her cervix. “Too much” was not in his vocabulary.

“That sweet pussy is mine,” the Master said. And it was, completely. Sweat dripped off his brow onto Yaz’s stomach as he hammered away. “There’s nowhere for you to go but onto the end of this cock.”

He rubbed the left side of Yaz’s clit as the pummeling continued. An unintelligible Morse code of cries emanated from Yaz, mingled with the slapping sounds of skin on skin. The Master looked even more unhinged than usual, hair wild, rhythm becoming uneven.

“I’m already fucking all that cum back into you,” he said, voice wavering. “And there’s about to be so much more...”

The Master leaned down, folding Yaz in two, unbearably deep in her cunt. Groaning and swearing, the Master came, shooting an unending load into Yaz’s pussy and fucking her all the while.

As it began to pour from her, Yaz plunged over the edge as well, hollering her release, her clenching cunt only forcing more cum out onto the cushion below.

Eventually the Master’s hips slowed. He grabbed Yaz by the face and snogged her with debauched decadence. Sliding her sore legs to the sides he dropped atop her, panting into her shoulder. Without realizing, Yaz wrapped her legs around him to milk out the last few drops of both their orgasms. He gave an appreciate purr and gently bit her neck.

Raising himself up on his forearms to gaze down at her, the Master corralled a few sweaty tresses away from her flushed face.

“You are definitely the wrong Time Lord’s pet,” he murmured.

He snogged her lazily once more before she could form an answer, then hoisted himself off the sofa. Her cunt missed him already. Exhausted and batting away the implied mention of the Doctor, Yaz stretched like a kitty, testing muscles that were going to ache in the best of ways for many days to come.

The Master already stood bare-chested in his trousers as he collected his shirt and waistcoat. Snatching Yaz’s knickers up from the floor, he wrapped Caligula’s cum-crusted egg up in them and slipped the package in his pocket. Protesting that those were a pair of her favorite underpants was fruitless, she knew, so she just wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“You’ll probably want to get that cleaned up before your family gets home,” the Master smirked, motioning to the carnage that was the soaked lounge cushions.

At the thought Yaz sprung upright, panicked eyes flying to the clock. Her sister was due home any moment.

“Hark, what’s that sound?” the Master asked.

Sure enough, there was a jingling of keys from the back door of the flat. Yaz bolted to her feet, throwing a blanket over the wet spots on the sofa. When she turned back towards the Master he was gone, the sneaky bastard – but thank goodness. Yaz rounded up her own clothing and ran naked to the hallway just as her sister called out.

“I’m home! We’ll need to call the superintendent, my key wouldn’t work in the front door for some reason.”

“Ay-up Sonya! Yeah, that’s... weird,” Yaz called back, trying to keep her voice calm.

Just before Yaz dashed into her bedroom she grabbed her shirt off the floor – and the Master’s coat off the doorknob of the hallway closet.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to TheseusintheMaze for the amoral support. ;) Reviews are love!


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